Father of Mine
by DiscoUnicorn
Summary: A companion piece to my story "Fear Factor." It's told from the point of view of Roxanne's and Teddy's son.  Rated T for mild language


_**I don't own anything related to HP. Read and Review.**_

I am Luke Weasley, and my father is Theodore Remus Lupin. When a child wants to know how he came into existence, he does not want to hear about how his mother deceived everyone around them. He does not want to know how the truth of his conception was discovered by his grandmother and several of his mother's cousins. A boy should know who his father is from the moment that he is capable of making rational decisions, right? A boy should be confident in all that goes on around him; he should know about events that indirectly and directly affect him. A boy should be taught how to ride a broom by his father. I did not experience any of those things.

Our family was a strange one that often left me wondering what was going on with my mother and uncle Teddy. I do not recall ever seeing another man at our house, other than Teddy, but Mother somehow managed to give birth to two daughters after me. I was four years old when Emily was born, and I had no idea of what turmoil she had caused within the family. Emily was born with bright purple hair. People tell me that my eyes changed colors, but I cannot do any of that stuff now. I'm just Luke, stuck with strangely colored eyes.

My sister Emily was born with bright blue eyes and plum colored hair. Every time she hiccupped, her hair would change from red, blue, plum, green, and orange. Emily's favorite color is plum, and that is what color her hair was, unless she was angry. Up until the age of eleven, Emily had no control over her hair turning orange whenever she got angry. Once, Emily called uncle Teddy 'daddy' in front of Victoire. The woman made it perfectly clear that Theodore Lupin was not our father and we were just children abandoned because our mother was not worth keeping. Emily was eight years old. She was incapable of being consoled as I hugged her, and uncle Teddy pulled Victoire out of the room. Emily's hair was orange for almost two weeks.

The last of my family was born when I was twelve years old. I do not know why my mother waited so late to do it, but Hope was born. Hope had hair that was as dark as nothingness and round brown eyes. Hope was the one that destroyed the calm life we had built by then. Uncle Teddy visited us on the weekends and often brought us things. Hope automatically called him daddy. Emily tried to convince our youngest sister that it wasn't true, but Hope, at the tender age of three, persisted. She once told Victoire that she should leave her daddy alone. Victoire, being the bitter hag that she was, told Hope that she simply existed. Hope, six years old then, was quiet for several moments.

"Victoire, if I simply exist then where is Cat's father? Doesn't he exist? Catherine, don't we all exist? Where is your father?" Hope's innocence was earnest, but her knowledge and ability to pick up things was distressing to the people around her.

Catherine, our fair haired cousin, simply uttered two words. "Shut up."

Victoire and Teddy divorced when I was seventeen years old, which was somewhat shocking. Their marriage had produced two children: Catherine and Chere. Hope made it perfectly clear to Catherine, who was thirteen years older than her, that she would not accept her as a sister because they shared no blood link. However, Hope clung to Chere as if she was one of the most amazing people in the world. Unlike Hope, Chere had plain brown hair and brown eyes. She had her mother's face and her father's eyes and nose, both of which things Hope could see in herself.

Our generation was one of much strain. Once Louis moved back, he rarely had the pleasure of interacting with us, so nobody really faulted his son and Lucy's daughter when they accidentally started dating. It just happened and ended. My father, even after his divorce, never lived with us. He never said to me, "Luke, I apologize for being a shitty dad." He never said much of anything. He paraded around our houses as if he was the saddest person in the world. I could not allow him to take that title; it belonged to my dear mother, who was willing to devote herself to him anyway she could.

One day, Hope said the thing to him that I had been wanting to say since I moved away at eighteen. I was twenty-eight years old and in want of seeing my mother and sisters again. Of course, Uncle Teddy was there. Emily confessed that he lived with Mother and Hope. Anyway, we were having dinner and Teddy was talking about some wizard that tried to kill his wife when Hope slammed her fork down on the table and stood. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in thick waves of black, and her brown eyes glowed.

"I hate you." She, my sixteen year old sister, pointed to Teddy. "I have hated you since I was inside mother and had to listen to you make excuses for everything. I hate you for not stopping your wife from insulting us. I hate you for pretending as if we are not yours. Where is Catherine and her two children? Your daughter's mother ruined her and shipped her off to Germany where Dominique is. What makes you so important that you can ignore everything when I can hear everything!"

Emily, with her shoulder length blue hair, followed my sister from the table and up the stairs. I wondered how Hope felt to have actually grown up with our father so close. There was nothing keeping me from leaving, but I couldn't move. How had my little sister managed to be so brave? Hope, well, Hope was just special beyond belief, and no one knew it but McGonagall, Mother, and Hope.

My mother was smiling. She turned to my father and said, "I think you should move out. Hope does not need this type of stress."

"Do you need this type of stress?" He looked defiant.

"I am tired of you, Teddy." She looked at him with her face set. "You have been cold towards your own children. You should have stayed with Victoire. You miss her so much. My children are adults now. They have grown into remarkable people. I'm almost sad to say that I'm glad you weren't around when Luke was growing up."

He looked as if the color had been pulled from his face. "I'm sorry."

Mother nodded. "Yes, you are. But look at your son."

The statement caught me off guard. Why would he look at me? I was just Luke, dark brown hair and blue eyed. It was at that moment when our gazes met that I remembered what Emily said to me on the day I graduated from Hogwarts; she told me that I looked remarkably like our father. It was true, and that was all that I had taken from him.

I am Luke Weasley, ambassador to American wizarding society and healer when I have the time to volunteer. I am engaged to a witch named Ashley Jackson, who has skin the color of night and hazel eyes. I know who I am, and I think my sisters know who they are. I watch Emily as she talks about her latest assignment as an auror, the only one in our generation, and I believe that she is happy. It is Hope, who speaks what no one else says. It is Hope that acknowledges our father each time she sees him. Her statement is always the same.

"Hello, father of mine."


End file.
